


Thermodynamic Miracles

by zemenipearls (ayaanle)



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dark, F/F, F/M, Heroes, M/M, Watchmen - Freeform, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayaanle/pseuds/zemenipearls
Summary: (Based on HBO's Watchmen)Tulsa, 2019.Leoni Hilli is a vigilante known as Sister Night. When her father figure turns up strung by a tree under mysterious circumstances, she is thrown into a world she doesn't anticipate. Her life becomes a crossroads between heroism of masked and unmasked people, the racism of the 7th Calvary, the disappearance of the mysterious Dr. Manhattan, and her own past.Trigger Warnings:This will deal with a lot of racial trauma and violence in general. I'm drawing from both the show and my own family's history, and what my grandparents, my dad, and myself endured in the South. E rating is for violence, language, and possible sexual content.(Likely not to be updated anytime soon, sorry!)
Relationships: Colm Fahey/Aditi Hilli, Jesper Fahey/Kuwei Yul-Bo, Leoni Hilli/Adrik Zhabin, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, Tamar Kir-Bataar/Nadia Zhabin
Kudos: 8





	1. Yeah, But Who Wants to be Dead?

_Tulsa. 1921._

Bodies lay in the street. Children cry. Businesses burn. Men in white robes dragged black people by nooses behind galloping horses. Alone, covered in the back of a wagon, a child shut their eyes against the terrors. The world was ending.

Tulsa 2019

Leoni stared at the group of kids in front of her. Sunlight streamed into the classroom, demonstrating some of the goods she would be making in her new chocolate shop. Most of the kids watched in rapturous attention, since they wanted a bite later. Including her own daughter, with a smile that matched her own. 

One of the third graders looked at her with contempt. But Leoni didn't care. She had faced worse and probably would face worse in the future. As the chocolate sat, she took questions.

"Have you always made chocolate?" One asked. 

"No. I used to be a police officer," she replied. "But some bad people found out where I lived so I stopped. And now I make chocolate." 

Leoni was tall, with even dark skin. She wore a pastel pink dress for the presentation, an apron wrapped around. Her hair, typically loose in a large bouncy afro, was pinned back for food safety. Despite no longer being a police officer she still had ramrod straight poster and a confident way of moving. This was a woman proud of herself. 

Her daughter, was a lighter version of herself. Instead of the deep dark brown, it was a umber, and she had coily hair in an afro puff. Leoni was grateful that Neveah still smiled after everything she went through. Leoni picked another kid who had a question.

"Did you pay for your store with Redfordations?"

Leoni faltered only a second, but regained her composure. However, Neveah turned and glared. "Excuse me?" Leoni asked kindly. 

"Redfordations. Daddy says y'all only get stuff cause of handouts."

There was no stopping as Neveah catapulted out of her desk and slammed into the boy. Chaos erupted in the classroom and Leoni sprinted over to her, but the boy already had a bloody nose and bruises forming.

"Neveah!" She said, picking up her daughter. The boy was crying. As much as she knew she should feel bad, Leoni couldn't muster the sympathy. 

After talking to the principal and bringing up Neveah's trauma to keep her from getting expelled, they drove home. The girl had her arms crossed, looking out the window.

"You can't be doing that," she reprimanded lightly. 

"He was racist."

Leoni sighed. "He's a kid. He's stupid, not racist. But he's well on his way." She placed a hand on her daughter's lap. "I'm not mad at you. But you gotta play the long game with these kind of folks."

She dropped Neveah off with her Uncle Malachi, who babysat her after school. 

Her storefront awaited for her - Wait For the Hilli Chocolates. She worked on the padlock when a woman called out to her from the street. "That store ever gonna open?" In a wheelchair, she had dark skin and a shock of gray curls cut close. Deep wrinkles lined her skin and Leoni could see the beginnings of cataracts in her eyes. 

"It will soon ma'am," she called back. 

The woman raised up a skinny arm, flexing it. "You think I can lift 200 pounds in the air?"

"Sure thing," Leoni winked. "You keep working on it."

Inside the store it looked like any in-progress restaurant. Kitchen equipment half-covered and cleaning supplies. She even dusted regularly so it looked new, and shifted things around in case anyone got curious. The freezer had a keypad, where she entered the code.

Instead of a walk-in, there was a set of stairs. The heavy door swung back closed and Leoni went to the basement. This was where she became Sister Night.

She sprayed the black paint over her eyes before putting on the uniform. It felt no different than when she had been a cop. But instead of securing a hat, she pinned her hood down, and then got in her nondescript car and drove to the precinct.

The cops all sported their dark navy uniforms and bright yellow masks pulled up to their nose. A safety precaution, since the White Night. But she pushed those thoughts deep down. Her desk was directly across from another vigilante, Looking Glass.

Leoni knew Looking Glass was white because of his hand. He was average height, with a Southern drawl, and had a shiny reflective mask that he wore at almost all times. Sometimes he pushed it up to eat his sandwiches, but that was it. 

"Mornin' Night," he drawled. 

"Glass," she replied. "How you doin'?"

"Better when we get these 7th Kalvary assholes done with," he muttered. 

"Ain't that the gospel truth," she said. "Ready for the meeting?"

He shrugged, and she wondered what expression he hid underneath. He placed his hands on the table and she could see both - the flesh hand and the prosthetic. The robotic hand was incredibly lifelike and sensitive, and no one knew the story behind it. 

Leoni observed him as much as she could, despite the unnerving blankness of his face. He didn't move like military or police. He dressed simply, usually in worker's jumpsuits. His drawl was typical of the South. 

They walked together to the meeting, a few other vigilantes in the mix. They moved to an austere room where they sat down in rows with the officers. Waiting for the Chief to begin speaking. 

A large screen blazed to life, casting the room in an eerie glow. The video still showed a group of people in Rorschach masks - a long dead Watchman that was better off in the ground to Sister Night. But now it was reinvented as a symbol of hatred and intolerance. The 7th Kalvary. Hatred formed a stone in Leoni's stomach.

Chief Brum began to speak. "Thank you all for being here. We have an update on the 7th Kalvary situation."

Leoni couldn’t help the emotion over the white supremacist hate group. It was them that killed her husband. That left her child without a father. That continued to terrorize the black population of Oklahoma. Just like their ancestors. But she let out a long exhale. Next to her, Looking Glass shifted. He must know - she didn’t aggressively hide her identity in the precinct. And they all knew if anyone dared to endanger her Neveah, Leoni would put a bullet through their head.

“They have released a manifesto video of sorts since the latest murder,” he rumbled. “It appears to be in some sort of church. Pews, cross in the background, appears Protestant. Like the ten thousand other churches in Okie.” There was a light chuckle from the crowd. Leoni remained stone-faced. “Its their usual bullshit. Officer Johnson was killed when he stopped a speeding truck on the highway. The bed had lettuce in it, and when the man reached for license and registration, a Rorschach mask and 7th Kalvary brochure were visible. Unfortunately the weapon in his vehicle was not released in a timely manner - the suspect opened fire. Body cam footage shows that while Officer Johnson was radio requesting his gun to be unlocked, the lettuce was disguising weapons.”

Protests arose from the police around Leoni. The controversial gun law, meant to protect citizens from unfair extrajudicial law, was not perfect. But this wasn’t the House and Senate, Leoni thought arguing the finer points of gun control here was pointless. She kept staring at the hateful cowards on the screen. 

“The funeral for Officer Johnson will be held this weekend, followed by a celebration of life. In the meantime, we need to get these bastards.”

Red Scare stood up. She was a blonde-haired Russian woman. “Let us go to Nixonville!” she yelled. “You know that trash hides in their trumped up trailer park.” There were voices of agreement, and she continued. “Send me and Sister Night in there. A Communist and Black woman will shake ‘em up.”

Leoni shrugged. Even if they weren’t in the Kalvary, Nixonville still harbored a lot of racists. _What a great example you’re setting for your kid,_ she chided. 

“You know we can’t go in without a warrant,” Chief Brum replied. “The manifesto has been transcribed and sent to your e-mails. Please stay on high alert for anyone using the dog whistles identified in the assessment done by Looking Glass.”

Looking Glass gave a nod beside her. He spoke up a bit. “They’re using language specific to Rorschach himself, based on the Watchman’s manifestos. Words like rats, infestation, and the phrase ‘whores and politicians’ and variations thereof.” Leoni enjoyed the analytical speech in his drawl. “Its funny they’re sitting in a church when Rorschach was a known atheist. Despised organized religion. But racism trumps all.”

Leoni nodded. She continued to think about Glass’s words as they worked on investigation. Or at least she did. As Sister Night, she kept her boots on the ground more than many of the vigilantes, who went out when called. Looking Glass in particular was used in interrogations. Sister Night heard the rumors. The black folks and whisper networks that told people where to stay away from, what streets and stores to avoid. People who were sympathetic to the Kalvary, at worst a part of it.

She kicked her legs onto the desk. “Hey Glass,” she said.

“Night,” he responded. Leoni assumed he was looking at her, since his eye-less mouth-less solid reflective mask was in her direction. _I wonder if he can breathe_. She would be too claustrophobic for it. 

“You an Oklahoma native?”

“Not in the indigenous sense,” he said. His accent was like butter. “Or at all. I’m from Mississippi.”

“Shit, man. That’s Klan country. How’d you end up not a dick?” she asked. 

He chuckled. “Couldn’t tell ya.”

Leoni looked curiously at him. It was easier to stare at someone when they didn’t have a face, in her opinion. “What color is your hair?”

“Guess.”

She thought about it, squinting her eyes as if maybe she’d be able to see through the mask. But all she saw was a distorted image of herself. “I think you’re a brunette.”

“Fine then, Night. I’m a brunette.” 

“With blue eyes.”

“I’m a brunette with blue eyes.”

She smiled at him, and hoped that he was smiling back at her. “I gotta go pick up my kid and get her fed,” she said. Leoni walked over to Looking Glass and gave him a small kiss on the top of his shiny head. _Why did I do that? Dumbass,_ she thought. “See ya later.”

He was silent and Leoni cursed at herself for pushing boundaries. No matter. She went back to her makeshift lair, changed into civilian clothes, and picked up Neveah from Malachi’s. Her fingers were stained from the painting they’d been doing. “Hey baby girl,” she said. “You have fun with Uncle?” 

“Yeah! We got to paint on the wall.” Leoni looked at him questioningly, and he chuckled. 

Malachi was a big, tawny-skinned man that had long brown hair in a braid. “We’re painting the kid’s room this weekend so we thought they could have some fun. See you at Chief’s house in a bit?”

Leoni nodded. “Where’s Ellen?” 

“Doing some meditation, she’ll be there too.”

Leoni kissed his cheek and they got into the car. “We’re going to Uncle Jarl’s house?” Neveah asked. 

“You know it baby,” Leoni said. 

The White Night, Christmas Eve five years ago, had been the worst day of her life. The largest terrorist attack in Tulsa since the bombing of Black Wall Street in 1921. The 7th Kalvary had learned the identities of every Tulsa police officer. Then they got their illegal guns, went into their houses, and shot the officers in the head. They said that police were discriminating because of the Robert Redford reparations act to descendants of the Tulsa bombing. That they were taking their guns. That they were oppressing white men - when Leoni thought they were holding them accountable.

They put a bullet through her husband’s head while they were dancing in front of the Christmas tree, and it was only Leoni’s hidden gun in the fireplace that meant she and Neveah were alive. The rest of her department hadn’t been lucky. The only other survivors were Malachi and his wife, Chief Brum, and four kids of officers who had been staying with other relatives. 

Now the survivors were their own family. Malachi and Ellen adopted the kids. Chief Brum and his wife became like their grandparents. - the Chief was like her Dad It was funny to Leoni. She was black with a black and Choctaw daughter, Malachi was a Choctaw man married to a Kazakh woman, and they had three white kids and a latinx son adopted, spending time with an old white couple. But that was how it the river flowed.

Mrs. Brum welcomed her with a big hug. She was a red-headed white woman, who was always ready with a smile for Leoni. “Look at how big she’s getting,” she said, cooing at Neveah. “Come in, come in. The roast just finished.”

They sat on the couch with the rest of the Brum family. Jarl had a son, Matthias who was married to a woman named Nina, and an adopted daughter from the Cree Nation, Hanne. Leoni enjoyed being around Hanne, and thought she was a good example for her own daughter. It was good for her to spend time with both Malachi and Hanne. Neveah absolutely loved Hanne. Standing at six feet tall with a buzz cut that showed off her strong face, she was perfect to request piggy back rides from. 

Everyone let out a great big cheer when four more kids rushed into the house and immediately began playing with Neveah, as if they hadn’t seen her an hour before. 

Leoni loved the family atmosphere. She never had one growing up. She had spent her time alone and wanting, and now there was an abundance. Brought together by something so tragic. But she tucked in to the food and at one point, someone began singing from Oklahoma. So everyone began singing. Even little Neveah, who she didn’t think knew the words. 

When the kids began dozing off, she let Hanne pick her up so they could go to the car. Leoni could do it herself, but she knew Hanne adored the girl. She hugged everyone goodbye and gave cheek kisses, the goodbyes stretching for another twenty minutes while Neveah was passed out in the backseat with her stuffed animal. 

At home, she carried a drowsy Neveah to her room, which was a spectacular display of the universe. Her husband had put it together when her daughter looked up and said one day, “I want to touch a star.” Leoni missed him dearly, but she was okay most days.

She was getting ready for bed when she got a call. Her phone never rang at night, unless it was important, so she picked up the receiver. “Hilli residence.”

An old woman’s voice spoke on the line. “Your dad. The Chief.” 

Leoni’s hackles rose. “What of it?”

“You should come out. Y’know that tree at the crossroads of the highway and service road. He wants to say goodbye.”

Leoni grabbed her gun, and threw a hat on her face. She wished for her mask but she would make do, pulling the hat low and tying a bandanna around the bottom of her face. She fretted over what to do about Neveah. She couldn’t leave her alone. So instead Leoni texted Hanne. 

**To: Hanne**

**Can you come over? Emergency. Need to step out ASAP.**

It was barely a moment later when Hanne responded that she was on the way. Leoni waited in the car until she saw Hanne’s pull up, and then she peeled away. She gunned it as fast as she could out to where the tree was. She knew exactly which one it was, and when she arrived, her stomach dropped. Leoni turned her brights on towards the tree and stepped out, shotgun braced against her shoulder. 

“Thanks for coming out,” the woman said. Leoni realized it was the old black woman from earlier, in the wheelchair. “Come get your daddy.”

Leoni followed the woman’s line of sight and screamed.

Chief Jarl Brum was hanging from the tree. 

The branch bowed from the weight of his body, his face distorted and an ugly purple, the skin thin around the neck. Shock turned into rage inside her body. “Who did this?” She said, voice wavering. 

The woman had the gall to look smug. “Me. I asked you if I could lift all that weight.”

Leoni aimed the shotgun at her, warring with the parts of herself. One of the people she loved was swinging from a branch like a peach. But she couldn’t shoot this woman. Not like this, in a wheelchair. She would commit no extrajudicial murders. Instead she grabbed the back of her wheelchair and began wheeling her to the car. “Don’t say another fucking word,” she grumbled.

It was a tense ride to her hideout. The woman smiled to herself, and hummed a tune that was familiar and strange at the same time.

At the hideout she handcuffed the woman to one of the appliances, and gave her a glass of water. "Talk," she demanded.

"Weather was shit today."

"No," Leoni ground her teeth. "Who are you."

She cocked her head. "I don't think you want to know." The woman gave her a shrewd look. "My name is Aditi Fahey."

"I damn sure want to know who killed him. Why did you do it?"

The woman leaned back in her chair. "He had to die. I have no regrets." She took a sip from a glass of water.

"You killed a good man."

"Did I? Should find out what skeletons he has in the closet." The woman looked around. "This town has changed a lot since I've been here.

"You from Tulsa?" She asked. 

"Grew up right down the street." The woman smiled. Leoni saw the woman was beautiful and had probably been drop dead gorgeous when she was younger. High cheekbones, full lips, cunning eyes. Age didn't erase her looks, even if her face was weathered. It fought against the revulsion Leoni felt in her stomach.

So she snatched the water cup from the woman. "I'm gonna check that." She left some chips by the woman. "If you get hungry."

"You gonna leave me here?"

"Yepp."

When Leoni returned home, Hanne was fast asleep on the couch. She smiled and pulled the throw blanket over her. Then she checked in on Neveah, fast asleep under a canopy of painted stars. 

The next day was a blur. She only got a couple hours of sleep before she had to take Neveah to school and go to the scene of the crime as Sister Night, trying to act surprised. As she stood on the slope leading to the tree, Looking Glass approached and stood next to her. 

"Mornin' Night," he said.

"Glass," she said. She was so tired. It settled in her bones. 

"How you holdin' up?" 

"I've had better mornings." She looked over at him and saw he was holding two coffee cups. He handed one to her. "For me?"

"Ain't no one else I'm givin' it to. Chai latte with almond milk right?"

"You got it."

"You know almonds are killin' California? Some shit about water."

"You know I ain't give a fuck?" Leoni smiled at him, hoping he was also smiling under the lifeless mask. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Anythin' to help." He paused. "I know you two were close."

If it weren't for the unprofessionalism, she would have hugged him. Instead she winced as they cut down the Chief's body and it unceremoniously thumped to the ground. She observed the body and tried to look at it analytically.

 _How did she do it?_ She wondered. The old lady - Aditi - was lively but even Leoni wouldn't be able to lift the Chief and the 6'2" mass of muscle that made him. She had to have help. But who? There weren't any other impressions in the ground. Just the wheelchair, and Jarl's boots.

"Kalvary?" Said Looking Glass.

Everything screamed at Leoni to not lie. After all, his specialty was reading people and being a reflection of them and their biases. Did it make a difference if it was the Kalvary or not? They would kill again. They killed her husband and every other police officer in the Tulsa PD. Their spouses. Their _children_.

"Probably," she said. "They've used the technique before."

Back at the precinct everyone was in an uproar. Red Scare was standing on a desk with Pirate Jenny. "These trailer park bastards have had it too good for too long," Pirate Jenny yelled. "And now they killed the Chief because they can't accept the fact that the world isn't in tune with their bigotry. We need to interrogate every last one of those shits until we find out who's Kalvary!"

Leoni glanced at Looking Glass and he gave her the smallest of nods. It was time to raid Nixonville.

It was early afternoon when she was dismissed for the day and back in street clothes. She still had time for one more thing before she picked up Neveah. 

She went to the Tulsa Black Heritage Museum. The holograms of different significant figures sprang to life as people walked by, discussing their roles and what Tulsa was like during their life. The Heritage museum was also the way they tracked the black descendants of Tulsa. 

In her purse was the cup that Aditi used. Then she walked to where the Ancestry kiosks were. 

"Hello," said a friendly, 50 year old black man on the screen. "I'm Luther Kinsey, Head of the Department of Justice. It is our duty as a nation to pay back those who have been affected by domestic terrorism. From Tulsa, to El Paso, to Philadelphia. Direct descendants of those government sanctioned crimes are entitled to compensation. First, may I ask your name?"

Leoni leaned in. "Aditi."

"Hello -" the voice changed briefly to an automated one. " **Aditi**. Please swab your cheek with the tool provided for you below."

Leoni took a sample off the cup and turned it in. "Thank you for trusting the Black Heritage Museum with your history. Please leave a number we can call you at with your results."


	2. Interlude: The Man on the Moon

A man sat at a desk in the most beautiful mansion in the universe. He had two wonderful servants, who cooked and cleaned and had faces that he couldn't remember. They brought him a cake for his anniversary. He raked his hand through his tousled blond hair. 

He was around 50 years old, and wore a riding outfit. He had a beautiful horse. And beautiful property. Everything was absolutely  _ perfect _ .

He hated it all.


	3. It Is - As Always - Plotting, Scheming, Working, Fighting.

The morning of the raid, it started raining squid. Leoni held the umbrella as the squid landed with wet thumps and then slid to the ground, where they dissolved within 5 or so minutes. Extra dimensional events were rare, but occurred often enough. It just took her a moment to recall if it was a tornado siren or squid siren.

When the event passed and roads were clear, they began organizing. Officers became a monolith with their blue uniforms, nondeadly weapons, and yellow masks pulled high on their face. Leoni spent the morning dropping food off to the woman, who seemed rather cheerful considering she was locked up in a defunct chocolate shop.

Nixonville had a garish giant-sized animatronic of the former president in front of the trailer park, and the locals were coming outside, looking the police up and down. To their credit, Leoni noted that not all the inhabitants of Nixonville were white. There were some little beige kids Leoni felt bad for. 

Red Scare stood on the hood of a police car, megaphone in her hand. “Alright you pieces of shit. You have five minutes to turn in everyone you know is Kalvary. And we know you’re hiding in there. If not we have a warrant for your arrest. Ever. Single. One of you.”

The residents started shouting at the police. Many of them gave her dirty looks. As the commotion got louder, Looking Glass finally arrived next to her.

“About time you got here,” she said.

He shrugged. “Squids fucked up my engine.”

“I hate when that happens.

Tension rose. Pirate Jenny taunted them. A line of blue police officers waited, batons in hand. Leoni knew this was going to be ugly, and she could have avoided it. But Leoni wasn’t sure the Kalvary wasn’t still involved somehow. Two birds, one stone. “They got your bubble set up?” Leoni asked him. 

Glass nodded. She called it a bubble but it was really his portable interrogation room. Every surface was a mirror, and he could display seemingly random images that made internal biases come out of people and draw the truth from deep inside. He couldn't always get a confession but it provided a lot of information. Leoni admired it greatly. 

A sudden horn blasted. The temporary Chief held the megaphone now. "Bring 'em in."

Officers stepped forward and began arresting tenants, who began fighting back. Leoni minded herself. 

When a man got too close to her Looking Glass casually tased them, and let the officer put cuffs on.

"Thanks," she said. Someone tried sneaking up behind him and she delivered a powerful kick to the chest that made them wheeze and fall down.

"Thanks," Looking Glass said. When a particular group got rowdy, she jumped in, delivering punches and kicks in strategic places. Leoni ignored some of the hateful glares, the muttered slurs. They could complain and bitch all they wanted, at the end of the day she was still a successful black woman.

They were pulled into vans and driven to the interrogation site - some nondescript brick buildings where they would be held in modest conditions until questioned. The kids were taken into the transitional home, where kids were cared for and adored while their parents were arrested or if they were removed from abusive homes. 

The dome-like metal structure in the middle of a concrete room was Looking Glass's domain. She watched as he walked over to it - like a space ship dropped down to Tulsa. "Brunette with blue eyes," she muttered to herself before going to help with interrogations. 

Leoni wasn't ready for the Chief’s memorial when she walked in. Dressed in a simple black dress and heels, her afro bouncing. Neveah matched. They held hands, the wake full of unmasked cops and family members mourning. She saw Pirate Jenny and Red Scare. In their private life, known as Tamar and Nadia. They looked softer, holding hands. Leoni even attended their wedding.

She craned her head, looking for any one-armed man that might be Looking Glass. "Mama, can I go see Aunt Hanne?"

"Of course baby," she said. "Go play with your cousins too."

Leoni made small talk, milling about until she finally circulated to Mrs. Brum. "How are you holding up?" She asked gently. 

"Oh it hurts," Mrs. Brum, dabbing her eyes. "But you know better than most. I wouldn't imagine this on my worst enemy."

It was true. But things were moving. She could grieve her dead husband and father figure later. But she let her eyes shine bright still. "I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed right now."

"Oh you poor dear," she said. "Why don't you go rest in our room? Lord knows I can't be in there right now." Leoni gave her a tight hug.

"Thank you."

Up in the bedroom, Leoni took off her heels. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out her goggles. Bulky with glowing red eyes, it gave her an eerie appearance as she began scanning the room. 

She examined every wall carefully, putting her hands up and looking for any depressions and hollow spots. It was finally the closet where her glasses indicated there was mass behind the walls. Leoni felt around until her finger landed on the secret button.

The panel slid open, revealing a large masculine bust. Her body went numb.

A Klansman robe and hood in perfect condition, in the bedroom of the Chief of Police. Jarl Brum, who had been like a father to her since the White Night. Who hugged her daughter and gave them presents. 

Leoni shoved the robe into her bag, went downstairs to get Neveah, and left. 

Sometimes, Leoni wanted to cuddle with her daughter while her mind raced. This was one of those days. They turned on the television, and Leoni held her tight while thinking in her head about everything. The woman had known. How? She needed insight. Everything in her life was turned over.

Hanne had plans to take Neveah to a tribal gathering, so as soon as the two were on the road, Leoni went back to check on the woman.

Aditi was making cookies.

She had unchained herself, and was taking them out of the oven. "About time you came back. Had to go to the store and everything by myself."

"How did you get out of the cuffs? How did you get in and out for that matter?"

"Maybe I'm Dr. Manhattan," the woman teased. 

Leoni rolled her eyes. "You ain’t glowing blue and dressed in your draws. How did you know Brum had a Klan robe in the closet?" She asked.

"Oh he did? I ain't know bout all that, but no surprise there." 

The phone to the shop rang and Leoni walked over. 

"Hello! This is the result of your Tulsa Black Heritage Museum request. Please confirm your name."

"Aditi Fahey," Leoni said.

"Thank you. Our records indicate you are an African American survivor of the 1921 Tulsa Massacre. Our sincerest apologies. You and your descendants are entitled to compensation. You have two living relatives. We cannot give out this information but you are free to say the name if you have a guess, and we can confirm."

Leoni looked at the woman, who had a shrewd look on her face.

"Leoni Hilli."

"Yes. Leoni Hilli is your granddaughter."

"Neveah Hilli."

"Yes. Neveah Hilli is your great granddaughter."

Leoni hung up. 

"Hi there grandbaby," Aditi said when Leoni turned and stared. "Nice to meet you."

"I don't have family other than my husband and my kid," Leoni said. "I've never heard of you in my life."

"That's my fault too. Life's funny like that." Aditi looked at her suspiciously. "What you gonna do now?"

"I'm sick of your games. I'm turning you into the police." Leoni grabbed the wheelchair, pushing her outside the shop. “You can answer to them.” The world felt upside down. She had a grandmother. An old as hell grandmother, but a grandmother. Frankly, she had never even heard of this grandmother. Her own mom hadn’t talked much about her before she died. But the Heritage museum was likely not in on this whole thing. Leoni hated to admit it, but this was probably her grandmother.

She pushed Aditi out to her car, the street lights flickering to life. She helped the woman into the car, arms around her tight. The older woman stumbled and wrapped her arms around her, and Leoni was startled. Aditi gripped her tightly in a hug. Suddenly she seemed like a frail old woman, and she empathized. They shared blood. Leoni didn’t know what she’d been through.

But she still buckled Aditi in, and shut the door. 

As Leoni grabbed the key to get into the driver’s side, a helicopter appeared in the air. “Where the  _ fuck _ did that come from?!” she shouted. Especially when it dropped a giant… magnet? And was lifting her car. Straight into the air. Aditi grinned and waved at her as her main mode of transportation was lifted into the night sky. “Mother _ fucker! _ ” she yelled.

She shoved her hands into her pocket, and her fingers wrapped around something unusual. She pulled out a prescription bottle, with no information on it. Must have belonged to Aditi.

* * * * *

“Why do we have a new car?” Neveah asked from the back seat.

“Mama’s car is in the shop baby,” Leoni gritted through her teeth. “This is a rental.”

Neveah held onto a giant squid plush. Her daughter’s current hyperfixation was the disaster that destroyed an entire city - but Leoni didn’t have the bandwidth to decide how she felt about it. She dropped her off at school and went to the precinct after stopping for a change. The geriatric bitch  _ stole her car _ . 

She needed help on this. As much as Leoni wanted to do this by herself, someone needed to be roped in. At her desk, she nodded as Looking Glass sat across from her, handing her a chai latte with almond milk. She stared at him.

“Do I got somethin’ on my face?” He said, his voice dry.

Leoni couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Mayhaps.” She cocked her head. “I need your help with something.”

Looking Glass pulled the bottom of his mask and her heart lurched forward. Was he going to take off his mask? But he simply raised it over his mouth and she settled down. “Anything.” His lips weren’t full, not by her black-ass standards. But they had a nice shape and the upper was fuller, pushing into a cupid’s bow that was surprising. Other than that, he had some dusty stubble. Nothing distinctive. Nothing to reveal his identity. 

“You sure?” she asked. He gave a decisive nod. “Can you meet me tonight? My kid has ballet at 4, meet me at 5?”

They settled on the details and Leoni was glad to have someone on her side. She was trusting her gut, which whispered that Looking Glass was trustworthy. She couldn’t study his face, but he could read people flawlessly. If he thought she was doing something dangerous, Leoni had the feeling Glass would turn her right in to whoever the acting chief was this week. 

Leoni didn’t bother covering her face for the meeting in a secluded part of the city park. She still had to pick up Neveah at the end, and since Looking Glass was helping her, he was entitled to her face. 

“Sister Night,” she heard his familiar southern honey voice say. 

When she looked up, he stopped. He was wearing his mask, but his chest stopped moving for the briefest of seconds. Was he looking at her? Did he see something? But then he moved and sat next to her on the bench as if nothing happened. “Leoni,” she whispered. “You can call me Leoni.”

There was a moment of silence, and he pushed his mask above his mouth again. “Leoni,” he responded. Her name rolled off his tongue slowly, like he was tasting it. A barrier had fallen between them, at least on her side. She was suddenly very captivated by the shape of his mouth when he said her name. 

_ Its been too long, _ she chastised herself. “So I kidnapped an old woman for a few days,” she started.

“Pardon?”

“I know who killed the Chief.” She detailed the story of the phone call, the old woman, and the fact she was Leoni’s grandma. She was surprised how easy it was to talk to him, he simply listened and nodded where appropriate, and asked for occasional details. 

With a heavy sigh, she opened her bag and pulled out the robe. 

“Shit, Leoni,” he said. She could hear the disgust in his voice. “Fucking hell.” He looked at the sheriff’s badge, his lips curled in distaste. “Klan?”

“Klan.” All of the hurt built back up. Someone who had hugged her daughter. Leoni wanted to murder him all over again. “It was hiding in his closet. On display, like some awful trophy.”

He frowned. “We need to get rid of this until we can figure out what’s happening. Can’t have the wrong people finding out.” He turned his head towards her. “Klan and Kalvary are like roaches. You see one, there’s a hundred hiding behind the wall.”

“There’s one more thing,” she said. “She left this bottle of pills. No markers, nothing on it. I need to figure out what it is.” 

“May I?” he asked gently. When she nodded, he took it from her, the hands touching for the briefest of moments. He used his phone flashlight to study them. “Ain’t familiar looking to me. Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

“My ex wife works in a lab. I can ask her to run it for me on the down low.”

An ex wife? Curious. At one point in time he had been married. Leoni wondered what kind of person Looking Glass married, what kind of woman he loved. Someone as perceptive as he was - why they didn’t remain together. Was it the vigilante work? Was it something else? Leoni had no way of knowing. She tucked every new piece of information about him into the back of her head. 

"Might take awhile to find out," he said. "But I'll let you know as soon as possible. Leoni." He paused. "That's a nice name."

"Thank you Glass," she said, and pulled him into a hug.


	4. Interlude - The Anti Vigilante Task Force

Zoya Nazyalensky watched as the hero was dragged into the police car amid the jeers of people in New York. She heard all the words before. Cunt, bitch, fascist. It didn’t matter to her. She was dressed in a killer suit, her long wavy hair streaked with a gorgeous gray. Even the lines in her face simply made her look regal, and she knew it. They could hurl insults all they wanted.

Back at the FBI, she reveled in a job well done. Careless vigilantes endangered people, and tried to get around the law. No. She was making sure no one was endangered.

She wasn't surprised when they already had a new task waiting for her. "Situation in Tulsa," they said. After being debriefed on the murders and the Klan going wild down there she let out a world weary sigh. "Who requested me?"

"Oklahoma Senator, Sasha Moore," they said. "The Kalvary are running rampant. We can't have white supremacist terrorists masked and wreaking havoc."

She let out a sigh. It was only a matter of time before Tulsa called her in. With masked vigilantes, masked police, masked racists, it would eventually come to a head.

"Well, I'll get packed. When is my flight?"

"Well, you need a partner on this trip." 

Zoya let out a groan. "Fine. You, what's your name?" She pointed at the intern managing the slideshow. 

"M...me?" He pointed at himself. 

"That's a shitty name," she said.

"Yuri. My name is Yuri."

"I'll take Yuri here," she said blandly. "Fucking Tulsa," she muttered. 


	5. Interlude II - Saturday Morning Cartoons

“Oh my god you idiot,” Ellen complained. Malachi looked up from the mixing bowl of cereal he was eating. 

“What? I was hungry,” he said. His long hair was tousled from sleep and he barely was able to get food chasing after the kids. Ellen shook her head with a smile. Her own hair was a shock of white, in a blunt short cut and bangs. It stood out against her golden brown skin, her deep brown eyes rolling. 

Misha came up to him and tugged the bottom of his sleep tank. “Dad, can we watch Minutemen?”

“Hell yeah we can watch minutemen,” he said. Misha clung to his leg and he hobbled over where the other kids were, all of whom also swarmed him as he tried to eat his Frosted Flakes. 

> _ WELCOME TO! THE MINUTEMEN! _
> 
> _ THE HEROES OF AMERICA. TODAY WE SEE HOODED JUSTICE - WATCH AS HE SAVES THE DAY!  _
> 
> _ [Captain Metropolis, Hooded Justice, the Comedian, Silk Spectre, Dollar Bill, and Mothman are lined up for their photo. The logo “MINUTEMEN - THE CARTOON” flashes across the screen. Flashes of Hooded Justice are seen fighting thieves in a convenience store. Hooded Justice wears an executer’s hood with a noose around his neck, a cape, and a loose all black outfit. A snippet shows him going home, kissing his wife, and taking off his hood to reveal a square-jawed white man with tousled dark hair.] _
> 
> _ HOODED JUSTICE FACES HIS GREATEST THREAT YET! BEING UNMASKED - BY THE VERY PEOPLE HE MEANT TO SAVE! _

Misha gasped. Malachi frowned.


End file.
